Beautiful
by duvalia
Summary: SLASH. Each member of the One-Four-One has his own way of dealing with the aftermath of a demanding assignment. The man called Ghost is no different. Rated for content.


**A/N: **Sorry, I keep getting distracted by other things/prompts/whatever. This fic was inspired by quotes from Fight Club (which I stole for the last two lines spoken). This is _loosely_ connected to "Drugs" from my "The FNG" series.

**WARNING! **This fic contains sexual situations between _two men_. Meaning slash, yaoi, whatever you want to call it. Borderline!non-con. It's purely consensual, but someone might get on my case because of the way I wrote it. And whether or not you're of age to be reading this, you know what content you can handle.

* * *

Ghost knocked lightly on the door despite his desire to just kick down the stupid piece of wood and get what he wanted. There were sounds of movement inside before Roach opened the door dressed only in his boxers and the dog tags that hung around his neck. The man, who apparently had been sleeping, overcame his initial annoyance of a visitor so late at night when he saw who his guest was.

Already knowing the reason for the visit, Roach retreated back into his room leaving the door open for Ghost to choose if he really wanted to take the next step. The action only succeeded in irritating the masked man as he entered the room shutting the door firmly behind him and flicking the lock into place.

"You're wearing that damn mask again," the annoyance in his voice evident. Roach stood by the window not at all embarrassed by the fact he was practically naked and Ghost was still in the outfit he'd worn during their assignment earlier that day, minus the sunglasses. The sergeant ignored his superior, waving a hand back and forth to ensure the match he'd use to light his cigarette was out. Satisfied that the flame was extinguished he tossed the used match onto the windowsill.

Ghost glared at the man in the reflection of the window, the only response he got, an exhale full of cigarette smoke. "You're really pissing me off," he growled.

"I know."

In turn, Gary watched Riley's reflection in the glass as the lieutenant pulled off his balaclava, revealing the face he hid from the world. Maybe that's what he wanted. To provoke Riley to the point of becoming someone else… so he didn't have to see his carefree commanding officer as the same person who stood before him. This way it was easier.

Fed up with Gary's antics, Riley closed the distance between them stealing the man's cigarette and taking a long drag for himself. "I don't know how the two of you can smoke these." Increasingly annoyed, he crushed the cancer stick against Gary's dog tags.

"Fuck," Gary cursed as some ash landed on his bare skin.

"You got that right." Riley tossed the cigarette away and pressed his mouth against Gary's, doing more biting than kissing. The sergeant grunted in pain, but Riley ignored him, pressing deeper into the kiss at the metallic taste of blood in his mouth, wanting more of it on his tongue. Gary struggled against him, but Riley held the smaller man pinned between him and the wall, further restraining him with the handcuffs he kept on his person.

Gary glared at his partner before losing his composure when he felt a leg press up against his arousal. He held back moans of pleasure as Riley assaulted his body with love bites, some hurting more than was necessary. A shiver went through his body when he felt the warm breath on his ear.

"I'm not here for you," Riley murmured callously.

He threw Gary onto the small bed and the man let out another grunt of pain from the cuffs painfully digging into his wrists and back as he landed. Riley watched as his subordinate struggled to sit up, knowing the restraints of the man's arms behind his back made it difficult. Once Gary had made it to a sitting position Riley roughly pushed him back onto the bed capturing the sergeant's lips once more and grinding their hips together in a steady rhythm.

Gary strained to control his breathing as a hand moved beneath the hem of his boxers before ridding him of the garment completely. And just as quickly he was flipped onto his knees, his face pressed against the sheets. He cried out as Riley forced himself inside with little more than spit as lubricant. Eventually the pain lessened, but this wasn't making love. This wasn't even sex. This was raw desire. A need to get off, and simply _fuck._

He whimpered as Riley forcefully thrust into him again, the noise sounding pathetic even to his own ears. But this was something he knew Riley needed. Just like Gary used drugs as a way to escape his problems, Riley used their sessions as a way to somehow regain control over his life. To know that he had power over something… _someone_.

The quickened tempo and heightened intensity of Riley's thrusts signaled his impending orgasm and Gary found it increasingly difficult to restrain the cries that forced their way from this throat. The sudden simultaneous feeling of the pain of teeth digging into the flesh of his shoulder and the pleasure of Riley releasing inside of him, initiated Gary's own climax and he came hard, collapsing onto the bed in exhaustion.

Riley pulled out and rolled onto his back to catch his breath. No words were spoken between them. No warm and fluffy cuddling. The only sounds were heavy breathing and the soft _clink _as the lieutenant unlocked the handcuffs and did up his trousers before making his way to the bathroom to wash up.

Ignoring the pain in his wrists from the metal bindings, Roach opened the drawer of his side table, blindly searching its contents with one hand. At the feel of a familiar tin box, he emptied it onto the bed, popping several pills into his mouth, dry swallowing.

The sound of running water ceased and Ghost emerged from the bathroom pulling on his skull printed balaclava. He glanced at Roach who had turned over so he was now lying on his back, a lit cigarette as common on the man as the mask was on Ghost.

The lieutenant unlocked the door to leave but paused feeling a mixture of emotions go through him. Remorse, need, satisfaction. He looked over his shoulder, setting his gaze on his subordinate who lay staring at the ceiling, motionless except for the erratic rise and fall of his breathing. Ghost watched as the cigarette smoke slowly rose toward the ceiling before dissipating into nothing, leaving little proof it was ever there.

"Don't." Roach's voice was monotone, his focus hazy, his eyes glassy.

"I wasn't-"

"Don't say it. We have our agreement."

"Yeah… I know," he muttered shutting the door behind him. The cool night air was a shock to his system after the warmth of a heated room… the warmth of a body next to him, surrounding him. He gave a humorless chuckle at the situation, slowly heading towards his sleeping quarters.

Suddenly surprised at the feeling of another's presence, Ghost stiffened slightly, the action not lost on his unexpected company. The lieutenant silently cursed for letting himself get caught off guard even when in the safety of their base.

MacTavish was leaning against the wall of their designated sleeping area, smoking a cigar as usual, the glow from the burning cinders partially lighting the Scotsman's face. The shortened length of the cigar made it obvious that the captain had been out there for quite some time. Ghost said nothing only giving a quick glance at the man, before moving to open the door of their shared quarters.

"Where'd you go, psycho boy?"

Ghost paused, his hand wrapped tightly around the surface of the doorknob. "I felt like destroying something beautiful."


End file.
